The Very Short Adventures of Howard and Vince
by whatthefoucault
Summary: A collection of random 200-word dialogues written at various times for various reasons.  Mostly pretty G-rated stuff, but rated T for possible implied fuzzy tingle times and mild language.
1. The Twine Archives

**Disclaimer**: Oh, what a surprise, I still don't own the Boosh.

**A/N**: Oh I don't know. Turns out rhubarb is the best yogurt flavour. Even better than prune.

"Vince, has this wardrobe always been here?"

"Dunno. It's well weird we've got a wardrobe I'm not making use of... Maybe it's a gift from an adoring admirer!"

"But how would an admirer get a large piece of furniture in without us noticing?"

"I have no idea."

"If it's empty, perhaps I could use it to house my Twine Archives."

"You mean your creepy collection of bits of string you've got catalogued by length?"

"Nothing creepy about organization, Little Man. Should you ever need, say, a twelve-inch twine, I've got you covered."

"Yeah, _fairly unlikely_. Let's have a look."

"Right, let me just - door's a bit stuck - there. Uhh,"

"Fur coats? The Rich Old Lady look in again?"

"I'm sensing a distinct coldness from behind them, as though..."

"Wow, this thing's a lot bigger than it looks from the outside!"

"Vince... I don't think we're in the wardrobe anymore."

"Oh hello there. Welcome to my little wood."

"Who the hell are - "

"Would you like to come in for a cup of tea? Soup, perhaps?"

"Howard, let's get out of here. He's looking at you with rape and lovesongs in his eyes."

"Yeah, we were just looking for some... coats? Run!"


	2. That One Jesus Looks Well Flirty

**Disclaimer**: If you're under the impression that I own the Boosh, YEAH NO.

**A/N**: Wrote this in my notebook while visiting the National Gallery in London this afternoon, because I am an obnoxious so-and-so who doesn't know how to visit galleries and stuff like normal tourists.

"Now, this room has works from northern Italy from 1500 to 1510. Notice how the - "

"Howard, I'm _bored_. It's all Jesus this and Saint that and pictures of ugly old people. Where's the pizazz? The sparkle?"

"What about the medieval collection? Quite a lot of shiny gold bits in there."

"Not enough to make up for all the brown bits, Howard. It's just all so grim and pretentious."

"I just thought we could do with a bit of culture, that's all."

"We get plenty of culture at home."

"What, like Yakult?"

"Even Yakult is more interesting than these. Oh look, a sunset! Didn't see _that_ coming."

"The point is the way they used paint to express - "

"Listen, I understand art. I watched an art film last week."

"Oh, did you really?"

"Yeah, it was genius. Just a still shot of a girl playing tic-tac-toe with a scary-looking clown. And it was like four hours long! It's well profound."

"Vince, that's a test card."

"Is that the name of it?"

"Vince, it's - "

"Whatever."

"Look. We finish this wing, then after lunch we'll tour the exhibit of David Bowie's wardrobe from 1970 to 1978. No more complaining. Deal?"

"Howard, have I ever told you how much I love you?"


	3. Monsterproofing

**Disclaimer**: I own my fair share of dust bunnies, but not the Boosh.

**A/N**: Just... yeah.

"Vince, what are you doing under there?"

"Monsterproofing."

"Monsterproofing?"

"Yeah, protecting against possible future infestations."

"Vince, you don't really still believe in the monsters under the bed, do you?"

"Course I do, Howard! Some of them are well vicious. Wouldn't you rather be prepared?"

"Of course, but - "

"Don't want to be all snuggled down in your bed, spooning someone you love, when RAH! A sabre-tooth beaver with laserbeam eyes leaps out from under the mattress and - could you hold onto that flashlight?"

"Sure... let me just - there, how's that?"

"Cheers Howard. Then there's sock gremlins and hobo vampires with - "

"You sure you're not making this up, Vince?"

"Never been more serious about anything in my life. Then there's Steve, the dust bunny. He's all right, really, but do you want him setting up a little squat under our mattress, having his friends round all the time?"

"Steve doesn't sound like an altogether bad person, though."

"That may be, but do you really want him and his mates to overhear us having a shag? '_Harder, Vince, harder..._'"

"Uhh, I think the back corner could use a little more monsterproofing, Little Man."


	4. Garlands

**Disclaimer**: I don't own the Boosh. I just borrow them when they ask me to take them on outings.  
**A/N**: For some reason at work today, I got the idea in my head of these two on the day they met, when they were very little. So this is the eighties and they're wearing school uniforms and Howard is the only boy his age with a moustache. _Garlands_ is also the name of the Cocteau Twins' first LP, which has nothing to do with this story other than the Cocteau Twins are amazing and this album was released within a year or two of when this story probably takes place, I reckon. Not so much funny as just, I dunno, it is what it is.

As it was a lovely sunny day, Vince Noir somehow convinced Howard Moon to take the scenic route home from school, through the park. They sat cross-legged on a little hill, under a willow tree.

"So, what's it like in the jungle?" asked Howard, chewing on a blade of grass.

"Dunno," said Vince, weaving one strand of flowers through another. "Normal, I guess. What's it like in Leeds?"

"Normal" said Howard. "I think. You ever miss it?"

"Sometimes," shrugged Vince, plucking another daisy from the lawn. "Miss my friends, mostly."

"I didn't think there were other kids that lived in the jungle," said Howard.

"Just me," said Vince. "I meant my animal friends."

"I don't think that's normal," squinted Howard.

"It is for me," said Vince, looping round the last bit of wildflower, cradling his garland like a precious treasure. "There. What d'you think?"

Howard took the garland from Vince, turning it over gently in his little hands.

"Beautiful," he smiled, placing it atop Vince's mousey shag of hair.

"Cheers," blushed Vince. "I like you, Howard. I think we're going to be really great mates."

"Yeah," blushed Howard. "Me too."


	5. Sugar Spun Sister

**Sugar Spun Sister**

**Disclaimer: **Oh, what a surprise, I still don't own them.

**A/N**: I don't really know what's prompted me to dig into the fellas' personal histories like this, but there you go. Also, go listen to the Stone Roses song this is named for. Just... just do it. It's great.

Leroy had graciously offered his basement as the venue for the celebrations commemorating Vince's sixteenth, as his parents had a fridge full of beers down there he _swore_ they'd never miss. Gaggles of hip young people - and a handful of friendly pigeons Vince had invited - drifted in and out to pay their respects to the birthday boy, or at least get a free buzz on, while the Stone Roses serenaded them all on Mr. and Mrs. Leroy's crackly basement stereo system.

Howard sat on a worn sofa in a quiet corner, sipping a mug of hot Ribena. Vince drifted through the ruckus to crash beside him, beaming.

"Having fun, Howard?" he slurred.

"Not really my scene," conceded Howard. "But I got you something. Happy birthday, Vince."

Howard hoped Vince would not notice that his limbs had decidedly outgrown his fancy-dress tweed suit by a good two inches since the last time he wore it, as he handed over a meticulously wrapped box. Vince, thankfully, was too entranced by the sparkles to notice. He tore past the paper and threw open the box, which contained a pair of white leather cowboy boots.

"Genius!" exclaimed Vince, radiant with tipsy joy. "They must have cost a bloody fortune!"

"Only a few months' savings," Howard shrugged magnanimously.

"They're fucking gorgeous, Howard," beamed Vince. "I love you. Them. How did you know?"

"You've only been mooning over them every time we passed the shop window, every day," said Howard. "I'm perceptive about these things. They don't call me The Perceiver for nothing."

"Who does?" squinted Vince.

"Uhh... them," blushed Howard.

"Well, they're perfect. Cheers, Howard," said Vince, leaning in to place a soft kiss on Howard's cheek.

Howard tensed, flustered and blushing like 54630983569873469875634509456.9 glasses of summer fruit squash.

"No touching, no touching," Vince assured him, hands raised, grinning.

As Vince swaggered off in the direction of the fridge for another beer, Howard crossed his legs, folding in on himself, hoping no one would notice.


	6. Venus As A Boy

**Venus As A Boy**

**Disclaimer**: Quelle surprise, don't own 'em.

**A/N**: Supposed to be finishing at least one of my many longer works-in-progress today, so what do I do? I ponder how Howard helped Vince with his studies when he was doing his BTEC ND in hairdressing. This happened. Go watch the video for the Bjork song in question, because this is set in like 1996 and Vince is totally wearing something like Bjork's outfit. Also, it's a damn good song; also, Bjork's adorable; and also, yeah I think that covers it.

Howard's arms crossed in annoyance beneath the dark sheet that Vince had draped over his shoulders. Vince forbade him from opening his eyes until his work was done.

"I don't know why I'm letting you do this. There's a simple elegance to my hair, sir," he huffed.

"There's nothing to your hair! It's like a vague suggestion of the possibility of hair, but it needs a bit of flavour!" explained Vince. "Besides, you've been a great help with my revisions for tomorrow's assessment."

"Almost done?" moaned Howard.

"Thhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhere! Well? What do you think?" asked Vince.

Howard opened his eyes. The result was shocking, but not surprising: his hair had been arranged in a series of bunches in jewel-like shades of blue, purple, and green, framed by a swoopy fringe.

"I think I look like the mirror universe Bjork," he cringed.

"I know! Genius, right?" beamed Vince.

"Vince, it looks like a peacock threw up on my head," said Howard.

"Exactly! Umm, Howard?" asked Vince, quietly.

"What?"

"Do you think I'll pass my assessment tomorrow?"

Vince gazed at him hopefully, his blue eyes shining. Howard softened.

"With flying colours, Little Man," he smiled.


End file.
